


A Guy Like You Should Wear a Warning

by Aceworu



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, hurt with come comfort right at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceworu/pseuds/Aceworu
Summary: For years, Gladio meant safety to Noctis. Even beyond Gladio’s obligation as his shield, there was something soothing about being near him.





	A Guy Like You Should Wear a Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the ffxv-kinkmeme, with the prompt:
> 
> "Gladio and Noct are in a relationship (that was essentially cancelled once Noct's arranged marriage was announced, but they fooled around a bit on the trip after the treaty was shown to be a lie). They were mostly together because they're kind of in each other's back pockets all the time anyway, and Noct wanted someone big & strong to manhandle him in bed and Gladio wanted someone who needs him.
> 
> Anyway. Things take a turn for the violent between them after Altissia. Gladio's always had a temper and a habit of lashing out when frustrated, and it just becomes worse after everything that's happened. It's a toxic combination of Gladio resorting to violence when pissed, and Noct believing that he deserves Gladio's anger because he's a failure etc.
> 
> Make it awful."
> 
> head that and the tags. this is 100% catharsis fic tbh

For years, Gladio meant _safety_ to Noctis. Even beyond Gladio’s obligation as his shield, there was something soothing about being near him. The warmth of his body helped Noctis relax at night, both before the treaty and after it was revealed as the Empire’s ruse. Gladio always gave him what he needed, whether it was a steadfast presence at his side or a large hand between his shoulder blades holding him down as Gladio roughly fucked into him. At first Noctis explained it as just working off the extra tension and energy from training, but as it went on he couldn’t deny how important Gladio was to him, how much he relied on him.

It’s a few days after Leviathan’s rite that Noctis finally finds it in him to push himself out of bed. His father’s ring sits heavy in his pocket. The weight of his lineage and Luna’s life threatens to snap him in two, sending him into the depths of Accordo’s seas. He moves on instinct to the room Prompto had said the rest of them were staying, right down the hall from where Noctis had first woken up and learned of Ignis’ injury, of Luna’s fate. Noctis hesitates outside the door, suffocating against the pressure of everything. Everything had been his responsibility. Everything had been his fault. Finally, he pushes forward.

Everything pressing down on his shoulders lightens when he sees Gladio, lounging in a chair with his back to Noctis, reading a book. Noctis lets out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and moves toward him, already reaching a hand out. “Gladio-”

Gladio’s expression as he turns to face Noctis stops him. He frowns, brow drawn together in frustration like when Noctis would try to weasel his way out of training. He snaps his book shut, startling Noctis again. “If you’re up, we should get going.” He stands from the chair, not looking at Noctis as he grabs his bag from near one of the double beds, unzipping it and replacing his book. “Prompto’s helping Iggy shave, I’ll let them know. You should go get your stuff packed.”

Noctis feels frozen in place, stuck by the coldness radiating off of his shield. His brain rockets through all the years they’ve known each other, trying to find a similar situation to learn from. He finds none, Gladio had never disregarded him so blatantly, so completely. He swallows the building lump in his throat, pushes down the knot in his stomach.

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll go do that now.”

He quickly retreats, carefully shutting the door behind him. He leans against it, head tipping back against the cool wood. He swallows down shaky breaths, hands trembling. He presses them to his eyes, fighting back tears welling up. He swallows again, the lump in his throat unmoving. 

It would be alright. They’d get the rest of the Royal Arms and then the crystal, and when everything was settled and Noctis sat on the throne, he knew everything would be alright. He’d have his kingdom. He’d have some semblance of his life back. He pushed himself away from the door, making his way back to the other room. He just had to keep it together until then. Gladio would see how hard he was trying and it would be fine. He couldn’t lose him too.

 

Things weren’t any better on the train.

If anything, Noctis would guess, the close quarters only made things worse. He could feel Gladio’s disappointment in him from across a train car. He’d sink down in his seat, try to make himself smaller to avoid it, but it only ever seemed to make Gladio’s irritation worse.

Prompto is helping Ignis more often than not, rushing to his side when he stumbles and giving him a steady hand. Noct wants to snap at Gladio why he doesn’t help more if he’s so worried, but thinks better of it.

 

They’ve only been on the train a couple days when things come to a head. Ignis and Prompto are early risers as always, Ignis needing the comfort of a set routine. Noctis has been sleeping so fitfully he’s woken up when they rise, wide awake when Gladio stirs. He takes a breath, pushing himself to sit up.

 

“Gladio-”

 

His shield scoffs, “Actually getting your own ass up for once?” He turns to leave, his bulk filling up the doorframe of the cabin. 

 

“Wait,” Noctis pleads, shooting to his feet. “I think we need to talk.”

Gladio pauses, and for a moment Noctis thinks he’ll leave after all. Instead, he turns, arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe. He looks at Noctis, expectant. “So talk.”

Noctis falters for a moment, unsure if he would actually make it that far. Gladio’s stare burns into him, cementing him in place. He swallows, tries to steady himself.

“I. I know things are total shit right now. I know you’re mad at me, but I just,” his voice shakes “I need you. I can’t handle you shoving me away on top of everything else. I know I need to do better, and I’m really trying, it’s just—”

Gladio interrupts him with a scoff. “Still just thinking of yourself, brat?”

Noctis is startled as Gladio suddenly looms over him, using all of his height and bulk to his advantage.

 

“The hell should I be coddling you for? You wanna just crawl in bed and act like none of this is happening!?”

Noctis stumbles back, thrown off guard by his vitriol. “Gladdy, please-”

 

Gladio snarls, shooting forward to grab Noctis by his arms and pushing back until he slams into the metal wall. “Don’t pull that fucking shit with me.” He pulls Noctis close and slams him again. Noctis’ ears ring, a sharp pain at the back of his skull. “You feel like shit, you want someone to baby you? How about you pull your head out of your ass and think about how Ignis feels!”

 

Noctis wants to speak, to protest, but the words fall apart with another slam to the wall. Just as he’s started to steady himself again, he’s tossed to the floor, his head barely missing the hard steel of the train bunks.

 

“Try to actually act like a fucking king for once.”

With that, Gladio is gone, the cabin door thrown shut loudly behind him. Noctis gingerly pushes himself up, ignoring the throbbing at the back of his head and the ache in his arms, With a hiss of pain, he pushes the sleeves of his jacket up, inspecting. Bruises, dark blue and purple, are already forming. He groans, running his hands through his hair. Ignis won’t see them, but he knows Prompto is likely to raise a fuss if he catches a glimpse. With a sigh, Noctis pushes himself to his feet, shedding his jacket. He swaps it in the Armiger for his behemoth jacket, quickly tugging it on. Satisfied, he steps out, hoping to at least get a decent meal in the dining car.

Noctis pushes himself a bit more in the days leading to Cartanica, not letting himself linger in his bunk in the morning, helping Ignis when Prompto steps away. Still, he feels Gladio’s stare on him. Noctis knows it’s not enough for him—not as long as the ring sits in his pocket instead of upon his hand. Still, he hesitates, the heirloom heavy with expectation, with the blood of Luna and his father, with the destruction of Insomnia. It’s a struggle between the fresh bruises on his skin and the chronic ache in his chest.

Gladio keeps his distance from the others, keeping an eye on all of them. Noctis makes an effort to step around him when he can, but there’s nowhere to go on a train. When they end up crossing paths, Gladio is just as physical as the incident in the bunk. Shoving and pulling Noct around, always just out of Prompto’s view. More bruises pop up, from Gladio’s hands and the things Noctis stumbles or is pushed into. For the most part, he accepts it, knowing he’s let them all down. When they argue in one of the cars and Gladio shoves Prompto away when he tries to intervene, Noctis knows it another failure, knows he deserves it when Gladio’s demands that Prompto doesn’t follow him into the next car. He’s a mess of panic, wandering the length of the train in a haze until the train slows, pulling up to the Cartanica mines.

He asks Ignis to stay behind at the station, but he won’t hear it, telling Noctis not to worry about him. Noctis doesn’t have the strength to tell him it’s not entirely Ignis he’s worried about.

It’s slow going through Cartanica, Noctis looking over his shoulder every other minute to check on Ignis, even with Prompto diligently hovering at his side. Gladio scolds Noctis whenever he goes even a step too far away from Ignis, even if he himself was scouting ahead on his own or trailing behind the others. It sets Noctis on edge, snapping back at Gladio. He knew it wasn’t the best course of action, that fact underlined by Prompto’s nervous energy and Ignis exasperated sighs, the way his brow creased over his new spectacles, but Noctis is at the end of his rope. He’s exhausted, recent events and his new found fear of Gladio making him lose sleep, being lucky if he gets an hour or two before forcing himself to get up. He has no way to work out his feelings, no one he can talk to. His heart aches for the midnight chat between him and Prompto on the roof of some middle of nowhere Duscaen motel, but he doesn’t dare approach him out of fear of overwhelming his poor friend, giving him his own nervous breakdown. Ignis is out of the question, still adjusting to life without his sight. Gladio would see him weak, probably, remind Noctis of how selfish he’s being, how terrible of a person he is, that he should man up and carry his head high. 

At the very least, he doesn’t have much time to wallow in his thoughts. Beasts crawl the mines, and he throws himself into the almost mindless motions of battle. He knows how to fight, if nothing else, and it's a small comfort. The relief is short lived as they edged forward, finding the way blocked by a large truck, and then finding the machinery to move it non-functioning. The sky grows darker, and Noctis can feel the frustration rolling off of Gladio. It makes him nauseous.

He almost screams when Prompto suggests they split up. Prompto and Ignis to the nearby haven for the night, Gladio and Noctis seeking out the key for the back up generator before turning in. Gladio agrees before Noctis can suggest anything different. Noctis watches Prompto and Ignis pull out camping supplies from the armiger as he and Gladio continue further up the path.

“Eyes forward, _Your Majesty_ , looks like we’ve got some friends to greet us.”

Noctis doesn’t respond to the obvious taunt, just pulling out his sword to deal with the small gang of Falxfangs hanging around the shed. It’s quick, blessedly quiet work between the two of them. Stepping over to the shed, Noctis eyes immediately fall on the key to the generator. He grabs it quickly, a bit of tension leaving him as he imagines finally getting to just sleep and forget for a while. Gladio hardly acknowledges him, merely nodding at his find and turning to retreat back down the path. Noctis follows in a similar silence, until Gladio passes the short path to the haven.

“Uh, where you headed off to, big guy?”

Gladio huffs, crossing his arms and turning back to Noctis. “There’s still some time before the sun’s totally set. We can get the generator running so we don’t have to drag Ignis all over creation looking for it.”

Noctis has to admit he has a point, and it’s with a brief thought spared for his bedroll that he follows. 

Gladio is just as quiet as they seek out the generator. The two of them take out a group of Gurangatch hanging around the water by the switch, Noctis warping around, pushing himself to near stasis to make up for the other two’s absence, working out his frustrations as he buries his sword into one of the beasts’ skulls. Gladio doesn’t acknowledge him. He pushes at Noctis shoulder as he tries to catch his breath, telling him to get a move on. Noctis glares at him, trying not to stomp as he treads through the water towards the generator.

Noctis sighs in relief as the generator hums to life. Tomorrow should be relatively smooth sailing, he thinks, looking forward to getting another ancestor’s weapon and getting out of here, moving on to try and fix things. Retracing their footsteps back towards camp, however, Gigantoad blocks their way, and wastes no time before launching towards them. Noctis warps out of his reach, readying his sword again. He goes in for a strike, the rush of magic directed at the Gigantoad’s head. He falls short, stasis throwing him out of the warp and onto the ground. Noctis pushes himself up, coughing out water. His head swims, the ground tilting underneath him. He can hear Gladio shouting as his broadsword connects with the monster. Noctis groans, trying to reach into the armiger for an ether.

Just as his hand closes around around the form, the Gigantoad lashes out, tossing him aside with its tongue. Noctis cries out, ether flying from his hand as lands hard, rocks scrating and scraping him through his clothes. He recovers quickly, rolling over and grabbing the ether. Just as he crushes it, he hears the Gigantoad let out a harsh cry, followed by a loud thud. He looks over his shoulder, seeing Gladio dissipate his sword as the ether rights his vision again. Gladio meets his eye and starts to stalk over to him. Noctis flips over to face him, inelegantly and ineffectively trying to scoot away from his Shield.

“What the hell was that!?” Gladio demands, pulling Noctis up by the collar of his shirt. Noctis grabs at his thick arm with both hands, trying to pull him off.

“I underestimated how much magic I used fighting the Gurangatch earlier, fuck off.”

“Fuck off? What if it had been Prompto or Ignis that got hit ‘cause you couldn’t get your fucking shit together?”

Noctis growls, trying to kick Gladio away. “I _did_ have my shit together, I was grabbing an ether when it hit me, and I’m fucking exhausted after having you bitch at me all day!”

Gladio snorts “What, not getting enough beauty sleep, _Your Majesty_?” He scoffs “It’s that same lazy attitude that got Lunafreya killed, isn’t it?”

Noctis freezes, balking at the man in front of him. He just blamed Noctis for Luna’s death, practically saying he killed her. He reels his good leg back, putting all his strength into a kick to Gladio’s stomach. It hurts his foot, but it has the desired effect, Gladio dropping him to his feet as he swears under his breath. Noctis growls, getting right into the larger man’s face.

“ _Ardyn_ killed Luna, not me! He killed her right in front of me, and yeah, I couldn’t do anything to stop it, because maybe you didn’t notice I had just fought another fucking god!” Noctis practically screams, his voice wavering and cracking. “You don’t think I hate this, that I don’t hate knowing that she used the last of her power to save and protect _me_ while she was _dying_!? That Dad sent _me_ out of Insomnia knowing Niflheim was at our doorstep!? All because the Astrals, or Eors, or the Crystal, or some other cosmic asshole decided that I’m supposed to be the chosen one!?” He laughs, hoarse and bitter and broken. “You don’t have any fucking clue what that feels like.”

For a second Noctis thinks that maybe he’s actually gotten through, Gladio hesitating with a look of almost concern on his face. It’s gone just as quickly though, twisting in another show of frustration and anger. “If you’re feeling so pissed, then maybe you should stop wallowing in your own little pity party and actually _do_ something about it!”

Gladio shoves him to the ground, Noctis landing on his ass, his hands scraping against the wet rock below. Noctis glowers at him, moving to get up when Gladio punches him back down, right across his face. Noct cries out from the punch and the now-familiar pain of his head hitting a hard surface, sputters out water. Gladio is on him in an instant, pinning his right arm and straddling his hips. He squeezes Noctis neck, making them lock eyes “If you can’t face your destiny like a king,” Gladio growls, squeezing Noctis’ wrist so tight he fears the bones might break. “Then you can just lie back and let someone make you do it like always.”

Before Noctis can ask what he means, Gladio is releasing his neck, reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out the ring with his free hand. Replacing the grip on Noctis arm with the pressure of his knee, Gladio grabs Noctis left hand, pulling it up towards him. Realizing what he means to do, Noctis thrashes, trying to throw Gladio off of him.

“Gladio, Gladdy, wait, don’t-!”

He’s interrupted by his own scream as Gladio slips the ring onto his finger. White hot engulfs his arm, spreading over his body. He convulses as Gladio lifts off of him, body aching in a searing pain he hadn’t known since learning to walk again. He curls onto his side, cradling his arm against his body. It feels as if his skin is burning off, the water doing nothing to cool it. Finally, it seems to subside, though his skin still burns and his body still aches, he’s able to open his eyes again, panting through the pain. Gladio is nowhere to be seen. Noctis remains, trying to catch his breath. He bites back a sob, and pushes himself to his feet.

The walk back to camp is difficult, his bad leg locking up and even his good leg limping behind at times. He’s barely able to dodge the few daemons he runs into, starting to spawn in the dark of night. Noctis doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved to see the gentle blue glow of haven runes. He practically hobbles into camp, directing himself to head straight to the tent before Prompto interrupts him.

“H-hey buddy! We saved you some noodles. The beef kind, just like you like, and, uh-“ He trails off, eyes widening at what Noctis assumes must be a nasty bruise on his face. Then Prompto’s eyes trail down, following the line of his shoulder. “Holy shit, Noct, what happened to your hand?”

Noctis eyes shoot down to his arm, trying to hid it, but Prompto grabs it first, pulling it into the light of his lantern. Noctis sucks in a breath as Prompto’s eyes widen, just as surprised as he is. His skin has turned an ashen gray, fire red paths like lava moving over his veins. Prompto frowns, brow furrowing. 

“You’re wearing the ring… did, did it do this to you?”

“Is something the matter, Prompto?” Ignis speaks up, his head turned over his shoulder at the fire.

Noctis’ heart skips a beat. He stammers, eyes searching the camp site for Gladio. he sits on the cooler at the edge of the haven, facing away from everyone and apparently ignoring the situation. “It. it’s nothing. It’s normal, I just… I gotta adjust to the magic, you know?”

He pulls his hand free, chest aching at the concerned look Prompto keeps fixed on him. “Sorry, I’m pretty beat, I’m gonna turn in.”

“Oh… goodnight, then.” Prompto steps back, and Noctis can feel his eyes on him as he limps to the tent.

“Do let us know if you need anything.” Ignis calls after him, sounding gentle and concerned. Tired.

Noctis tosses a half-hearted ‘will do’ behind him before diving into the tent, passing out as soon as he lays down.

The night is a long one, periods of sleep interrupted by eruptions of blistering pain in his arm, his spine, his whole body. He shakes through them, one hand gipping at the thin blanket over him, which Ignis must’ve placed, and the other covering his mouth, swallowing down noises to keep from waking the others. The attacks exhaust him, sending him right back to sleep for the cycle to start again. 

He feels it’s a small miracle when he wakes up on his own at dawn, light diffused through the fabric of the tent. He sits up, wincing at all his regular aches and pains intensified by the ring. He groans, doubling over and pressing his face to his knees. “Fuck, _fuck._ “ He grits his teeth and fails to notice the tent flap being pulled open.

“Noct? Are you up?” Ignis asks, drawing Noctis’ attention as he pokes his head into the tent.

Noctis sits up, grimacing at the shot of pain it sends through his spine. “Yeah, I’m up, Specs, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I actually hoped we might have a moment to talk.” Ignis crouches into the tent, hands feeling out a clear path for himself. He sits, turning to Noctis. “Prompto is outside keeping watch, and Gladio is out clearing a better path to the tomb.”

Noctis squirms, the thought of Gladio even more uncomfortable after last night. “Oh, that’s… that’s a good idea, Specs. Thanks for that.”

A moment of silence passes, Noctis feeling like Ignis expects him to continue speaking, but now knowing what he wants. Ignis sighs instead, leaning slightly towards Noctis.

“Noctis… Prompto and I heard you screaming after you and Gladio went to the generator.” Noctis winces, fist clenching against the burning on his skin. Ignis continues. “And Prompto mentioned you donning your father’s ring last night. Now, Noctis, I… I want you to answer me honestly. Did you put on the ring of your own accord?”

Noctis breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t want to lie to Ignis, he _can’t_ lie to Ignis. But admitting the truth, telling him about Gladio seems forbidden somehow. Noctis wonders if he suspects, if that’s why he sent Gladio out on a task before talking to him, and the thought is comforting at the same time as it makes him want to vomit. He swallows, staring at the ground, unable to meet Ignis glassy, unseeing eye. 

“Does it matter?” Noctis voice comes out weak, strained, he hates it. “I have to wear it, I don’t think it matters how it got there.” There’s another beat of silence, and Noctis expects an admonishment from Ignis, or an exasperated sigh at the least, but none come.

“Noctis, the ring holds a terrible power that can not be forced or taken against its will. You must accept it as willfully as you sought out Titan, Ramuh, or Leviathan. Having it forced upon you would destroy you just as it would destroy anyone trying to take its power for themselves.”

Ignis’ hands seek out his left, the well worn leather a familiar comfort. Ignis runs a thumb over his knuckles, hovering over the ring before quickly sliding it off. The relief is instant, the fire on his skin and the deep ache in his bones dissipating as soon as the metal leaves his skin. Then it’s immediately replaced, fear and guilt pounding in his veins instead.

“Ignis-” Noctis goes to protest, but Ignis holds up a hand to silence him.

“You are only to bear this ring,” He says, his voice clear and firm. “When you feel you are completely prepared for what that entails.” He turns Noctis’ hand over and places the ring in his palm. He closes Noctis’ fingers around it, just as he had in Altissia.

Noctis trembles, shaking his head. He swears he can still feel the magic burning his skin. “But, Ignis, I… I need to be ready now, I…” He holds back a sob, curling in on himself. “I can’t let any of you get hurt like that again.”

“Noctis,” Ignis reaches out, finding Noctis’ face and holding it in his hands. “What happened in Altissia, to Luna or to myself, is not your fault. Neither was Insomnia, and Neither was any harm the Empire has caused.”

Noctis shakes his head, eyes scrunched closed and face crumbling. Ignis didn’t get it, Noctis was just hurting him more. Gladio hated him because he was a coward. He didn’t have the strength to stand up to him, to save Luna, to defeat the Empire or even to help any of them. The magic of his family’s ring burning at his skin had to have been proof of that. But Ignis still pulls him close, wraps his arms around Noctis’ shoulders, and doesn’t complain when Noctis lets out a muffled sob against his shirt, wrinkling the fabric in his hands.

“It’s alright if you can’t believe it just yet,” Ignis says quietly, soothingly. He pets Noctis’ hair, just like when they were children and Noctis sought comfort in him after a nightmare. “It is my sworn duty to protect you, even from Gladio, and even from yourself.”

Noctis hadn’t felt so small in such a long time, but, as he leans his weight against Ignis, he thinks he might be able to start to feel safe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the episode ignis trailer for helping me write the last scene with ignis and noct lma o


End file.
